Chapter 4 – Make It To Christmas

It's just something about the snow this time of year
That makes us lose our way
Just say we'll make up and hold on a little longer…

Can we make it to Christmas?

Janey set to go to Quidditch practice that evening as though she had not made a scene earlier in the day. It was already dark and miserable, and was precisely the reason she loathed winter. Janey's birthday fell in late July, and, as such, she had always adored the summer. She craved the sunshine, the heat, and she resented the fact that each day in the Scottish castle seemed to be drearier with each passing day.

Make no mistake, she was a big fan of Christmas. If Janey Davington loved anything, it was gifts. Her Muggle parents were multimillionaires and had always found it easier to express their love via the giving of luxurious material possessions, for which she had always been very grateful, but that was probably the only highlight of the festive season for her. She was trying not to wish away her last year at the school too much, highly aware that this would be her last Christmas with all her friends, but she was certainly not in high spirits as she went to meet them in the changing rooms—late, of course.

"Janey," Gwen said aggravatedly once the blonde girl had casually sauntered into the stuffy little room.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Gwen had been a lot more annoying since she'd been made Quidditch Captain, obsessing over every little practice like it was the most important thing in the world, and, as such, had become a lot less tolerant of Janey's more lax approach to the sport.

Gwen fixed her with an irritated stare. "Practice started ten minutes ago."

Janey settled onto the bench next to Rose. "Yeah? Well, now you've got all the boring stuff out of the way, we can get stuck into it, can't we?" She looked around the room at the rest of the team with an encouraging smile like they might chime in with agreement on her behalf, but they were all avoiding eye contact, instilled with fear by Gwen's fierce demeanour. Even Sam, the coward, kept his mouth shut, though he did offer Janey a secret smile. She returned it shyly, still a little embarrassed by how she'd acted earlier in the day.

Janey had never seen a boy for as long as she and Sam had been together, and it was proving hard to fight that oh-so-tempting reflex to run at the first sign of conflict. But things were very different with Sam. For one thing, they'd already had a lot of conflict. In fact, for the six years they'd known each other, there had certainly been way more conflict than there ever had been affection. Something which, to their friends' absolute disgust, they were very quickly trying to make up for.

Even still, it screamed against everything she'd ever known to actually trust that things could last. Every day she spent with him, every slight amount she let her heart warm to him, was unchartered territory, and the deeper she went, the more it would hurt to ever lose him.

She supposed her friends had a point—with their dumb challenge. They were trying to trick her into actually committing without making any anxiety-induced impulsive decisions such as she had been for the past three months, and Janey supposed it was for her benefit. She would entertain them, of course, but she was well aware of what they were trying to do.

"Every minute is crucial," Gwen went on, her face like thunder. "We are a team—we all have to be committed if we want to win."

"What's the big deal? It's not even a proper match we're training for—it's just a stupid friendly with the Slytherins anyway."

"Every match matters," Gwen countered.

Janey just rolled her eyes.

Fortunately, Gwen hadn't been looking. She was instead glaring at the rest of the team. "Need I remind you that we lost our first match."

The six of them shared awkward glances. It had certainly not been their finest moment, and a bit of an embarrassing start to the Quidditch season. Janey knew how important it was for Gwen to succeed. It was her first, and only year as Quidditch Captain now that James Potter had left the school, and she wanted to uphold the glorious reputation the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had previously held.

For the past two years, they had been an unbeatable force, and even though five of the initial seven members remained, things hadn't been smooth sailing. Their two new members weren't the issue. Gwen had recruited Rose's younger brother Hugo as a new Chaser, and his roommate and fellow fifth-year Frankie as a Beater, and the boys had gelled well, but there was something off about the team.

They had put up a good fight in their first match of the season—against the Ravenclaw team—but something had certainly been out of sync with them. Maybe it was the lack of practice after having returned from two months off. Maybe it was the absence of James and Mason, and the natural way the team had always flowed together. Whatever it was, Janey knew Gwen blamed herself, and that's why she was working them so hard. It was partially why they'd even arranged an unofficial friendly with the Slytherin team for the last week of term in the first place. Gwen needed a win. They all needed a win.

"We played well in our first match," Albus insisted. "We were just… unfortunate."

Gwen didn't look at all appeased. "We made stupid mistakes," she said viciously. "Mistakes which we won't make if we train hard and are actually"—she glared at Janey—"committed to the team."

"I am committed," Janey exclaimed, not appreciating that the blame seemed to be targeted to her alone.

"Janey," Gwen said in a dangerous voice. "You didn't catch the Snitch."

Janey felt her body go cold as all pairs of eyes in the room turned towards her. She folded her arms across her chest in the stubborn way she had perfected over the years. "Oh, so that's how it is?" she asked coldly. "It's on me that we lost?"

Janey, as the Seeker, had failed to catch the Golden Snitch, thus forfeiting them one-hundred-and-fifty points and ultimately costing them the match, but she refused to take the entire blame for their loss.

Gwen held Janey's stare with equal ferocity. "Everybody else was doing their part," she said with calm anger.

Janey went to open her mouth to make a snarling retort, but Sam leapt to her defence before she had the chance.

"Look, it wasn't Janey's fault—she was right on the tail of the Ravenclaw Seeker, she just—"

"Then whose fault was it, Sam?" Gwen demanded, rounding on him instead.

Sam looked startled at being the new target of Gwen's fury and promptly started to blush under her scrutiny. Cautious eyes were now glancing at him. "Well," he said sheepishly, "we all could have—"

"Don't yell at him!" Janey interrupted furiously.

"I am the captain," Gwen reminded them fiercely, "and if you guys aren't pulling your weight then it's my responsibility to tell you where our failings lie."

"Our failings?" Janey repeated dangerously.

Gwen glared at her once more, refusing to back down. "You should have seen the Snitch," she accused. "You should have been ready and waiting."

"I was!"

"No, you weren't," Gwen went on, ruthlessly unforgiving. "You were, as you have been all season"—and with this, she glared at Sam—"distracted."

Janey felt the heat flush to her face, no longer out of anger. She did not appreciate the implication.

She and Sam shared a mortified look.

And, suddenly, Janey felt angry once more, not just for what Gwen was implying, but for having voiced it in front of the whole team. "That's not true," she said in a low voice.

"Isn't it?" Gwen challenged. "Does anyone else on the team think that Janey hasn't been appropriately dedicating her time to Quidditch practice?"

Janey felt Rose stiffen by her side, but the loyal redhead didn't dare breathe a word. Nobody did. Janey couldn't be sure whether it was out of loyalty to herself or fear of Gwen.

"Come on, Gwen, that's not fair," Sam said sheepishly. "It was our first match as a new team, and we all tried really hard."

"We'll be better next time," Albus assured her, and Janey was grateful that he, too, was speaking up.

"Trying hard is not good enough," Gwen said in response to Sam, completely ignoring Albus' comment. "We have to be the best every time, and certain people aren't nearly as committed to this team as they should be." She once more threw a dirty look in Janey's direction.

Janey stood up so violently that Rose gave a slight start by her side. She stared at Gwen with challenging fierceness. "Don't be shy," she snarled. "Say exactly what you want to say to me."

"Alright," Gwen said calmly, rising to the challenge. "You're late all the time, you don't put any effort in during practice, you couldn't give a damn about this team anymore."

"Because it doesn't matter," Janey replied nastily. "It's just a dumb sport—just a fun hobby that we all got to play together as friends. Not everybody is as obsessed with the team as you are. Even James didn't work us this hard! Maybe I tried harder when he was Captain because it was actually fun back then."

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of screaming at Janey, or else maybe lunging at her. But she had always been the more rational one of their group of four—the least likely to let emotion completely override her. And she didn't.

But as Gwen looked down her nose at Janey with the same silent seething as before, the blonde girl wasn't sure she recognised her friend at all. Maybe Janey was being unnecessarily cruel, but Gwen was singling her out and trying to degrade her in front of all their friends, and Janey wasn't going to stand for it.

"Your lack of effort has nothing to do with me and the way I captain the team," Gwen went on.

"No?" Janey asked sarcastically. "What is it to do with then?"

"Ever since you and Sam got together, you waste all your time either arguing with him, or snogging, or—"

"I'm not going to apologise for that," Janey interrupted, her face flushing with heat once more. She did not appreciate Gwen talking about Sam to her. Not right in front of him—nor the rest of the team. "Why are you surprised that I care more about my relationship than this stupid team?"

"If this team is stupid then why do you even want to be a part of it!" Gwen demanded, finally starting to lose a bit of control. "We're your friends, Janey. And this team is important to me. It's important to us."

"You're obsessed," Janey said dismissively.

"Because it's my future, Janey! It's my passion—it's what I want a career in—and you're screwing it up because you're being selfish! You're compromising something that actually matters to someone."

"Well, my relationship matters to me," Janey countered. "The thing you're trying to peg as the reason I'm apparently so uncommitted to the team."

"Oh, sure," Gwen said nastily. "Because you won't be announcing in a couple of hours that you and Sam have broken up again. Because this relationship is going to be as long-standing as all the others that came before—"

"Hey!" Sam had leapt to his feet too, not quite out of fury, but more concerned disbelief for the way in which Gwen was so cruelly belittling both Janey and his relationship with her.

Even Rose and Albus let out small exclamations. The two fifth-year boys were sat in stunned silence.

Janey just stared, a prickle of tears threatening but not spilling. In the six years she had shared a room with her three friends, she had never once shed a tear in front of them, and she was certainly not going to start right there in the dingy Quidditch changing rooms.

But she had never seen Gwen be so cruel. Sure, the girls had argued plenty of times, but that's because Janey often pushed her buttons—she often pushed everybody's buttons. And she had respected that Gwen's fury towards her, at least, had pretty much always derived from something she was justified to feel angry about.

But Gwen was not the type to make personal digs. Least of all about Janey's dating life.

"Oh, I get what this is about," Janey said in a remarkably calm voice, but she could feel the venom working its way through her. She was about to hurt Gwen, and part of her knew she shouldn't, but she herself was so wounded from her unexpected digs that she couldn't restrain it.

"What?" Gwen asked, having entirely ignored Sam and apparently bearing no mind to her own cruel taunts.

"You're jealous," Janey said with triumph.

Gwen was already rolling her eyes.

Janey felt something urge her on. "You're jealous of what Sam and I have. You're jealous of what we all have."

"What are you talking about?" Gwen snapped. Something in her eyes looked wary.

"Of course!" Janey said with a cruel laugh. "God, you've been single for—how long now? Two years? Ever since Mason left you to snog Rose—"

"It wasn't like that!" Rose herself said in horror.

"It was a mutual decision to end our relationship," Gwen insisted. "And what does Mason have to do with anything?"

"You always thought you were so much better than the rest of us because you had a stable relationship and we could all only ever dream of having anything like the glorious Quidditch power couple," Janey scoffed. "And now that's over, and you're the only one of us who's single—now that I'm with Sam, and Rose is with Scorpius. Albus is with Annabel, and James and Ebony are married," she went on. "God, even Taylor's got that thing with Henry!"

Gwen didn't breathe a word, so Janey ploughed on.

"You can't stand the fact that we're all actually happy, and you alone are the only one who's single and miserable—"

"Some people don't base all their happiness and self-worth on a relationship," Gwen interrupted, unable to bear it any longer. "And if you think I'd be jealous of what you and Sam have—constantly arguing, and breaking up five times a day—"

"That's why you care about this stupid team so much!" Janey accused, refusing to let Gwen gain the upper hand again. "Because it's the only thing you have. The only good thing you have going on in your life. That's why you string Frankie along!"

Gwen faltered, refusing to look at the boy in question. Janey felt the shock emanate through the room.

The fifth-year boy had made it blindingly clear that he had a crush on Gwen from the moment he signed up for tryouts, but as he was only fifteen, and she seventeen, she had set firm boundaries—despite her friends' insistences that it wasn't so bad and she could at least entertain the idea. She might not have crossed any physical lines, but she certainly hadn't discouraged the flirting, nor felt any qualms about partaking in it herself.

Gwen had gone bright red, and Janey felt another surge of vindictive triumph. If she was going to take shots at Sam then Janey was going to hit Gwen where it hurt too.

"I don't—" Gwen began weakly.

But Sam was taking charge again, and Janey couldn't be sure whether she was grateful or annoyed. She wanted to keep going, to keep hurting Gwen in the way she'd hurt her.

"I think it would be better to get out to the pitch," he suggested, looking just as wounded by the jabs at his relationship as Janey felt but remaining calm and controlled.

"I'm the captain, Sam—you don't call the shots."

"Don't yell at him," Janey said again, as furious as before.

"I can do what I want," Gwen said unforgivingly. "And if you don't like the way I captain this team then you don't have to be a part of it."

"Fine," Janey declared, turning to head for the door. She had stormed out of many a room before—she had it down to a fine art.

"Janey," Sam said in a pleading voice, making to head over to her in desperation.

Janey stopped at the sound of his voice, turning to look not just at him but the rest of the team. Rose and Albus were both staring at her with equal looks of pleading in their eyes, whilst the two fifth-years were staring resolutely down, like they longed to be anywhere else. Gwen stood at the front of the room with her arms folded and her eyes gleaming with hatred.

"If either of you take one step out of this room then you're off the team."

Rose and Albus looked sharply at Gwen in complete disbelief, but neither spoke a word.

Sam, too, turned to look at Gwen, stopping in his tracks. "Come on, Gwen," he said weakly, desperately.

She didn't move at all, perfectly retaining her frosty demeanour. Janey felt the coldness in the room more than she had outside of it. In fact, from where she was stood by the door, she could just about see the first few flakes of snow start to lazily drift towards the ground through the inky black of the night.

"I'm being deadly serious," Gwen said calmly, arms still folded.

Sam turned his head to lock eyes with Janey across the room, and she felt her heart swell as she always did whenever he looked at her. He looked strained, desperate, hopelessly sad. He knew she was going to walk straight out the door. Janey had too much pride to sit back down and act calm and compliant after the way Gwen had just treated her.

The look Sam gave Janey, full of question, was not a plea for her to stay. He was asking her if she wanted him to join her—to storm out and take a stand too—and Janey knew that he would, loyal as he was. He did not want her to leave and to be alone to wallow in her hurt, and even if it meant sacrificing his place on the team then he would go too.

But Janey could not do that to him. Sam loved Quidditch, he loved the team, and Janey wouldn't force him to sacrifice that for her own selfish stubbornness. It was important to him, and it was his final year to be a part of it.

She shook her head ever so slightly. His eyes flooded with sorrow, but he nodded at her, just once, in understanding.

The last thing Janey saw was the sadness swimming in Sam's eyes, still feeling the heat of Gwen's scornful fury emanating across the room, before she turned on her heel and left the room, embracing the first snowfall of the year as it flurried around her.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Alessia Cara's 'Make It To Christmas'